Last year our dear friend Ruth Leggin was tragically killed in an accident on her way home from working at the Highland Games festival. As Welsh League celebrates its 10th Anniversary, we remember the untimely passing of Ruth and others.

Dyma nhw:from Bill Brazelton

As there was a shyness, on her place in our hearts is steady and proud.

Also related to the loss of a loved one is this elegy from Rona Laycock,who lives in the UK and is currently working towards a PhD at Swansea University.

She writes, "My poem commemorates the day I took my mother's ashes to be buriedin the family cemetery overlooking the most beautiful place in the world.It is a little sad but we celebrated her life, which she lived to the full."

The Mawddach Estuary

From up here I watchas the tide attacks.Sweeping round the curves,grinding away at the shore,harrowing the sandbanks.

It has no choice but to come,a higher power wills it,pulls it away from its bedand drives it up the funnelbetween the fieldswhere sheep still cryfor lost lambs.

The dome of a clear night calls meTo gaze at the heavenly sea.High above me, way away,Shining stars forever endure.Men of the past felt the same lure.John Jones for sure, felt the sway.

Born poor, a working man by day,Counting tiles of slate, shipped awayWithout delay, from Bangor.But yet a genius of the night,Built homemade telescopes to sightSnow caps of white, on Mars' core.

Also to view the craters deepWith secrets of the moon to reap,Ere he could sleep, our John Jones.As long as there's a sky to see,Astronomers will ever be,And seeking me, the night drones

Welsh MinerDavid Llewellyn MorganBaden Pennsylvania, USA14 Jan 2005

He went down at six at the start of his shiftHis face and lungs were blackHe spoke no English for in his valley nothing but WelshAs he sung an old hymn others joined in voices to God in songA few more hours and home he would be back to his Brownwyn and her good roastbeefHis children gathered around as he softly said a prayerThe Welsh Miner looked at them as a tear filled his eyeHe didn't want them to live a miner's lifeNothing but sorrow and strife.

Welsh SundayDavid Llewellyn MorganBaden Pennsylvania, USA14 Jan 2005

After chapel singing as we walked homeTea laid out on the table in a picturesque wayGood Caerphilly and cheddar cheese, homemade bread and butter with gooseberry jam, beef on a platter with mash

Father sat in his chair savoring every puff of his cigarMam and gran drinking pots of good strong tea speaking in the native tongue.Brother and I walking down street to sneak a fag perhaps getting soaked in a down pour on the way back home.

Tidy up now before Uncle and Auntie arriveMore food and all in a good mood grand ole Welsh Sunday.

"Pwy sy'n fel ni?" Said my dad to me as we sat in a pub looking out towards the sea. "Neb" I said and "neb" said he as he orderedanother pint.

"Pwy sy'n fel ni?" No people on the earth who can sing like the Welsh, Dad said to his son. The pub keeper nodded agreeing as didMr. Jenkins and Pugh. All agreed proud of their quaint little race.Then the stories were told of the warriors from long ago. King Arthur and Merlin and archers requested by Nations of the world.

Dylan Thomas and Sir Richard and our holy Dewi Sant,All of the men asked. Nobody! we all replied. I remember that day with Dad who is gone and took my son to the center of town. The Welsh Flag flew as I held his little hand. "Pwy sy'n fel ni?" I asked and he looked at the Dragon flying high, "Neb!"

Writer's note:Pwy sy'n fel ni is Welsh for "Who is like us?"Neb is Welsh for "Nobody."

Afon GamlanLynn WattsTucson, AZ, USA20 Oct 2004

In forest glade by streams at homeSpirits of air and water roam.By wind through trees, by waterfalls,Goddess of Life - to me she calls.

I shall go and see her there.Sounds of cascades on the air.Sometimes gentle, soft and mild;Often is she fast and wild.

Here we speak in words unheardThrough water, wind and rising bird.Grey-blue she soars and tells my soulToday I, too, can be made whole.

Fire of sun and earth beneath,Air and water - these four bequeathThe strength of all the Spirits fair.I, too, can own it, if I dare.